


morning shifts hold many secrets

by yearningbi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Dinner and Movie, First Dates, Florists, Fluff, I love them so much, I think????, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pro Volleyball Player Bokuto Koutarou, dorky boys, hell yeah that is it, one day i will write an actual kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yearningbi/pseuds/yearningbi
Summary: also titled: akaashi keiji's big gay for vb player bokutoWhat the FUCK are pro volleyball players Kuroo Tetsurou and Bokuto-fucking-Koutaou, doing in this corner flower shop. He did not sign up for this.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Bokuto Koutarou & Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 116





	morning shifts hold many secrets

He really needed the money. Just a side job, for the next three months, until he can get it together. Still, Keiji never thought, of all places, he would work at a flower shop. But, it wasn’t busy, and the pay was good, and again, he really needed the money. 

First shift alone. ‘Why did he choose morning?’ He asked himself miserably.

Well, you see, in no way was Akaashi Keiji a morning person. At least the start of morning shifts is slow, or so he was told. Just as he was starting to enjoy the silence of the empty shop, the smell of the flowers all around him, the taste of his coffee, the door belle chimed, announcing a customer.

Sighing, Keiji placed his coffee on the counter, and looked at the two customers who walked in, who looked extremely out of place in the tiny shop. How could he explain it? Well, to start, these two men were taller than him, and Keiji is well over the average height. These men were also extremely buff, probably some kind of athletes, which wasn’t as unsettling to Keiji as this last thing.

These two men were loud. At six-fucking-fifty AM, Keiji now has to deal with two huge, obnoxious men. 

“How ‘bout these ones?” the shorter one of the two asked, pointing out a pot of blooming flowers, painted red, lively and beautiful. “No, not these ones,” the taller asked. 

“c’mon, dude, clue me in, what are we looking for?”

“I already told you, bro, something romantic!” 

“Kenma would probably love whatever you get him, you know he will.”

“Yeah… but I still want to try, y’know?”

As they continued to look around, it dawned on him. What the FUCK are pro volleyball players Kuroo Tetsurou and Bokuto-fucking-Koutaou, doing in this corner flower shop. He did not sign up for this. While trying to figure out his situation he overheard, although a whisper, a very distinctive, “dude, he’s totally your type!” coming from Kuroo. Which meant it was directed at Bokuto. Which meant somehow, he is, at least a little bit, Bokuto Koutarou’s type.

Was this a blessing from the heavens? A cruel curse from the fiery depths of hell? He couldn’t decide, because while he was contemplating what he ever did to deserve such a chance, the two men stood in front of the counter, ready to pay and leave him to his uninteresting job, forever.

“Hello, good morning. What can I do for you today?” Keiji managed to ask in his best customer service voice, his face giving nothing away. He observed them, decided that they can’t tell he knows them, and calms down just a little.

“Hey! I was just wandering, uhhh, if I could get a nice little bouquet of those?” he pointed at the chosen kind of flower. 

“Of course, sir, just a minute.” He replies, making his way to said plant. He examines it, decides on the best arrangement, and quickly starts working on a bouquet. He has delicate hands, and working with flowers is delicate work, so it fits him, somewhat. 

It does not fit, however, the one and only, Bokuto Koutarou. He keeps browsing around, but with no point. He keeps looking back at Keiji. And then, in a slight moment of distraction, crashes down a whole shelf worth of pots and fully bloomed plants.

“Holy shit! I am so sorry!” Bokuto is the first to say anything. Keiji is too overwhelmed by the idea of having to take care of this, that he takes a moment to reply. “It’s alright, sir,” he tells Bokuto, then “I’ll clean this up and finish up your bouquet,” to Kuroo, and lastly, “I do need your personal information, sir, for payments to the shop to cover the wreckage you caused.” 

“Y-yes of course! Anything for yo- I mean, anything to help you with the all mess I’ve done!” Bokuto apologizes again. Kuroo sighs. 

As Keiji writes down Bokuto’s number, he feels the sting of sadness in his chest. If only he could use it to ask Bokuto out on a date, or just talk to him. “Hey,” Bokuto starts, “it’s not fair if you’re the only one that gets to have mu number when you can’t even use it.” He looks at Keiji, expecting an answer. 

Instead of words, Keiji grabs Bokuto’s arm, writes his number, his name, even draws a little heart. He had already finished Kuroo’s bouquet, so the man has gone on with his day a while ago, leaving Bokuto and Keiji on their own in the small shop. 

Bokuto is yet again the first to try and break the silence. “Akaashi, do you think we could, like, go out for coffee sometimes, maybe, if you’re free this weekend? It’s totally okay with me if you aren’t, you know, I’m not trying to force you into anything-” Akaashi stopes him with a hand placed on his mouth. 

On the inside, he is but a simple gay man, who was just asked out by his favorite volleyball player and crush. On the outside, he is calm, collected, and slightly blushing. “Yes, Bokuto-san, I would like that. You can text me time and place later, after you’ve calmed down.”

“O-oh. Nice.” Is all Bokuto says. “See you on Friday, Akaashi.”

Three days later, Keiji is standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to make himself look presentable. How did he even get here, just a couple of hours away from a date with pro volleyball player Bokuto Koutarou, ace of MSBY Black Jackals, beam weapon, current celebrity crush Bokuto Koutarou? Perhaps luck, perhaps destiny, Keiji didn’t know. 

He walks to the coffee shop and enters. The smell of coffee, arguably one of his life sources, is all around. He spots Bokuto, sitting in a somewhat secluded area of the café, waiting for him. He walks over quickly, sits down and greets, “good afternoon, Bokuto-san,” with a gentle smile on his face.

Bokuto lights up like a kid in front of a Menorah. “Akaashi!” he exclaims. They fall into easy conversation shortly after. Bokuto insisted to pay for their coffee and food, after what had happened at the shop. Mid-conversation, a guy with short brown hair notices Bokuto. 

“Bokuto! Man! How’s it going? Heard you made it to division one,” he grins. “Sawamura!! Holy shit, dude, it’s been crazy. There’s so much going on, oh my god.” Bokuto explains. “I wish I could hear all about it, man, really,” he pauses to glance at Keiji, “but I don’t wanna interrupt you date. See ya!” he waves and leaves Bokuto red in the face. Really red in the face.

“So,” Keiji looks curious, “division one of what?” he asks, although he knows the answer. 

So Bokuto tells him, and Keiji listens. 

The sun sets while Bokuto speaks, and even if he wanted to sit here and listen to Bokuto forever, Keiji really needs to get home. In a moment of impulse, he makes a decision. “Do you want to come over to my place for dinner?”

Keiji cooked dinner, Bokuto ‘helped’. “Providing moral support is also helping, Akaashi!!!” he insists. Dinner comes out great, Bokuto makes sure Keiji knows that, even if he said that with his mouth full. Finishing their meal in a comfortable silent, they make their way to the couch. They choose a nice movie, and it is fun. Relaxing. But everything good must come to an end.

“Aw, damn, Akaashi, I really have to leave.” Bokuto pouts. 

“It’s really ok, Bokuto-san,” Keiji says, walking him to the door. “I had a lot of fun today. You have my number, let’s do this again next week,” he suggests, sealing it with a kiss to Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto can barely get a coherent answer after that, but Keiji knows it’s a yes. 

After closing the door, he sinks down to the floor. “I can’t believe I just did that,” he says to an empty apartment. On the coffee table, his phone chimes. A new text message from one Bokuto Koutarou. 

‘looking forward to next week! <3’

As simple as that.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading this! i am compiling all of my ideal and writing them into coherent drabbles, so this is a lot less venty than the last one. enjoy!!!


End file.
